If You Were Normal
by AzureLazuliBlue
Summary: Don't talk to strangers, especially if you can't see who they are. You may well regret it later. Unfortunately for Clara, this is exactly what she has done.
1. Chapter 1: To Begin With

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Batman: Arkham Asylum (c) to DC Comics, Rocksteady Studios and whoever-else-made-it

**Author's Note:** My first attempt at a fanfic in this category. Constructive critisism is very welcome. Scarecrow in this chapter is probably out of character, I kept thinking of Joker's personality so it is probably a bit messed up. This is set during and then after the Arkham Asylum game :) bit confusing. Crappy summary, but so what? Not all I have written below is entirely island accurate but it's more or less okay I guess.

**Summary: **Don't talk to strangers, especially if you can't see who they are. You may well regret it later. Unfortunately for Clara, this is exactly what she has done.

**Chapter 1**

**To Begin With**

_Normally _she only tended to guards, who were feeling poorly or were injured in riots.

_Normally _she stayed within the Medical Centre, slept there in fact, only went back to the mainland on the weekends; she wasn't unusual in this aspect, quite a few of the more "dedicated" medical staff did. The gates were opened and shut throughout the day but from midnight to around 5 AM in the morning they were kept strictly shut, except in emergency; this was for safety precautions, making it less likely that any of the patients would escape without being noticed.

_Normally_ she would never be in this late, it was well past eleven at night but she had gotten so caught up in paperwork she had lost track of the time. She knew she it was highly likely that she would have to wait till the following morning to head back to the mainland, but that didn't mean she wasn't going at least attempt to make it out.

_Normally_ she wouldn't have even dreamt of ever going anywhere near the Intensive Treatment building in Arkham North, yes she preferred the safe West side of the island with the Visitor Centre and the Medical Facility, or even better, the East where there were just the botanical gardens and the mansion (unfortunately though she didn't work on that side), not the nasty North where they housed the most deranged of the lunatics on the island. And yes, she could use that word because she was a medical doctor, not one of the psychiatric doctors who had to act like they understood the patient's problems.

Sure they had the Penitentiary on this half of the island, but for some reason this did not register as dangerous in her mind, plus most of the people in penitentiary were not renown for their ferocity…well actually several of them were, but for some reason the building labeled Intensive Treatment sounded a lot more intimidating than Penitentiary on an island entirely devoted to curing deranged minds. People had escaped from Intensive Treatment in the past, so far she hadn't heard of anyone ever escaping the penitentiary.

There had been a lot of drama in Intensive Treatment as of recently, first one of the most inmates, the inaptly named Joker, had gotten out several months before and was now unfortunately somewhere in Gotham City and causing chaos, as she had heard over the radio, and _**now**_ one the inmates had become injured in the most unusual way as well, he had apparently fallen off a bench...Which she was having increasing suspicion that it was all an act, but it was her duty to head over anyway, it was possible the victim had been suffering a cardiac arrest or an epileptic fit and was not simply just trying to cause trouble or escape.

They hadn't wanted to move him, and to take him to the Medical Facility would have meant _**exactly**_ that. But that had not stopped them from roughly strapping down the patient to the nearest stretcher-like table and calling for backup. Someone had said he might have broken his neck, since he wasn't moving when found, and that moving him could be dangerous; they had apparently forgotten they had already moved him, but she mentally praised them for this precaution; not on her half though, the half that wanted to go back home and fall asleep in a nice warm bed, but the half that cared for the other's life, not personally of course, it was just her job to make sure her patients didn't die.

She was Dawson, Clara Dawson, and didn't like either of the names. But that was what she had been stuck with since birth, and she had worked here at Arkham for just under six months. She wasn't a senior doctor or anything, was considered more of a rookie or nurse by some of the older staff, but she knew more than just the basics and had confidence in herself that she was just as intelligent and educated as any of the other doctors there. She would have much rather been working at a normal hospital but for her own reasons, that was not what she did.

Clara had moved to Gotham by herself, renting out a small apartment somewhere to the east of the city. It may well have been considered as greed but it was mainly the salaries that had attracted her to working on this island in the first place. She had opted to work five days a week, twenty-four hours a day, and for what she got was anything but nothing, she could have definitely afforded something better than the little flat she currently had, but the downside of working at the asylum with her time table was that she didn't actually have the time to search for a house and actually live in it…

She had a dream though. One day, when she had a large amount of money in her bank account, she would leave Gotham and move to a smaller town, where she would settle down and maybe eventually even start a family. This dream though was still a long way off and didn't seem particularly appealing to her right now anyway, in fact it sounded quite boring.

She had been packing belongings, readying to head home for the weekend, when they had came to find her.

"Dr. Dawson, there is an emergency in Intensive Treatment." said some orderly after banging hastily on the door and pushing it open before she even had time to answer.

She blinked owlishly at him for minute, then went over to the door and pointed down the hall.

"The security office on this side of the island is down that way." she told him, narrowing her eyes. "I may not be one of the senior staff but I know it's not my duty to handle breakouts."

"A patient is injured. Fell of a side bench, was knocked unconscious." the orderly said hurriedly. "We need to hurry."

Clara dropped what she was doing, grabbing the nearest medical kit; but if this was _serious_ then it was going to take a lot more than a meager box of bandages and pain killers, the patient would have to be transported to Medical Facility itself if that was the case. She quickly hurried after the orderly.

"How serious is it?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. He just knocked himself out, or at least stunned himself. No external bleeding was immediately apparent, patient was breathing normally. Some doctor said he may had broken his neck though. But it didn't seem too serious."

"Then why are we running?"

"The gates shut soon. I don't know about you, but personally I want to head home tonight."

Once they reached the building the orderly escorted her just as far as the first elevator where some guards were standing around expectantly, he told them to take her to the patient, then hurriedly left. She was accompanied by two of the guards through the security scanner, the rest stayed behind, then past a large cell block where there were some people shouting angrily. They all were stuck in the same cell. She may had not been a psychiatrist but even she knew that if all these people were insane being stuck in a little cell together could not be good treatment. She asked one of the guards about it.

"Ah, they're just Blackgate Prisoners, got moved here because a whole lot of the prison building was burnt down. They'll be removed soon enough."

They came to a point where there were two elevators, they took one down, the guards muttering between themselves nervously. Clara felt kind of put off by the fact that they both seemed to have forgotten her now, no one had even told her who the patient was and whether or she should be just nervous or completely terrified. This was first time Clara had ever been into Intensive Treatment, and she could see all the security, though she hid it deep down Clara was extremely nervous.

As the elevator doors clanked open they stepped out, Clara continued on with the two guards leading the way. Together they went through several complicated looking security doors, Clara began to grow edgy at the excessive safety only increased, it made her wonder how dangerous it actually was to just stand within the building. But then finally she caught sight of her patient, and her fear dropped. Apart from the scary atmosphere that seemed to emanate from him, the man did not look overly threatening, or at least compared to the prisoners she had just seen; in fact he looked very frail, pale and underweight.

There was some two psychiatric doctor already there, attempting to talk to the man who was obviously now awake and seemed somewhat bothered by the sound of his tone; Clara reminded herself that the man was insane and carried on. The younger of the two doctors looked up, Clara immediately recognized him. Theodore Myles, he had taken the same language lessons with her back in college, they had talked a few times, they had sort of been friends, but she didn't really know him that well. He must have only just started working at the Asylum judging by the nervous edgy look he had rather than the stone cold exterior most people working here displayed, poor guy…working in this building.

Theodore immediately looked immensely relieved, he hurried over holding a clipboard to his chest and smiling way too brightly for this island. He held out a hand.

"I'm Doctor Myles." He said happily, shaking her hand and handing her a clipboard; apparently he didn't recognize her. "You must be here to tend to my patient. Nasty fall he took."

"Your patient?" she asked. _Damn_, she thought, _if I came all the way out here when there's already another doctor attending to the patient and if I don't actually need to be here, and if it means I just missed my chance to head home, I am going to have a mental breakdown! Then I can be thrown in one of the cells here, at least I'll be able to sleep..._

"My psychiatric patient, I…er, I'm new here you see, I'm not quite sure about...what err...terms." He mumbled and went silent.

"I understand." she told him. "I only joined this place a few months ago myself, you'll get used to it, Theodore."

"How'd you...?" he looked suspicious for a moment, then snapped his fingers together and beamed. "I know you! You're Clara! From Spanish Class!"

She nodded, but not as enthusiastically. As much as it was a surprise for her to meet Theodore here, there were still pressing matters at hand, such as the possibility of death. She quickly scanned the board he had handed to her, then raised her eye brows at what Theodore had written. Either he was _very, very_ new here or he was just being plain stupid, for on the board was just this:

_Patient: Dr. Jonathan Crane, highly dangerous, plays mind tricks, watch it._

Then it just looked like he had started doodling cartoons all over the rest of the sheet.

Eyebrows still raised in disbelief she looked over at him. Theodore fidgeted and gave her a grin.

"I just have to scribble out the gist of what Dr. Bailey was saying, so I did it as quickly as possible err...I didn't realize I was going to have to share the notes with anyone."

His psychiatrist position be damned Theodore was stupid, well maybe not stupid, just not very informative or prepared. She looked at the patient himself for the first time whom the other psychiatric doctor had been tending to the whole time she had been talking. The patient, however, seemed to have little interest in what the other doctor was still saying to him and appeared to be watching both her and the other with beady black eyes, not looking really that bothered; as if the situation was something that happened on a daily basis. She suddenly remembered her duties and hurried over to his side, feeling almost guilty. She hesitated over speaking to him, she wasn't sure whether or not she was actually supposed to address the inmate, she had never had to deal with one of them before.

The other doctor, Bailey apparently, had stopped speaking now and was looking at her. She looked at the board Theodore had given her, just so she could look at something while she thought. Realizing the silence was going to stretch into infinity if something wasn't said soon, Clara chose to speak formally.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Crane?"

"It's Dr. Crane, and I feel quite fine. How are you feeling...? You look somewhat agitated, is it fear you are feeling? Scared of being within this building? Or is it something else?"

Clara averted her eyes and turned to Theodore. Something about the inmate made her nervous; probably the fact that he had killed dozens of people and was classified as insane; or had he not killed anyone? Truth be told she had no idea, she didn't recognize his name, but the fact that he was here was enough for her to know he was dangerous.

"What exactly happened, your report...didn't exactly cover that issue." she asked Theodore.

Theodore looked somewhat ruffled, a hand quickly flying behind his neck to scratch at an imaginary itch which had suddenly developed.

"He's not even supposed to be in this sector of the building, they wheeled him out here, I wasn't anywhere near his cell at the time. It is theorized that for some reason he fell off the side bench, and knocked himself out...but personally I don't believe he ever lost consciousness."

Clara looked around, she couldn't see any cells anywhere, why they could have transported Crane all the way over here and not the Medical Facility was a highly annoying mystery.

"He didn't escape from his cell, did he, Dr. Myles?" she asked

"Good heavens no! The whole of Arkham would know if he had!" said Dr. Bailey suddenly speaking up. "He was just found slumped in his cell."

Clara went back over to her patient, very suspicious that the whole unconscious thing had been an act. She wasn't suppose to be suspicious, she was a doctor, and as a doctor she was suppose to attend to any who were possible unwell. She looked him over, there were no apparent lacerations, bruising or broken bones obtained from the fall, but she couldn't tell for sure, she would have to be the patient himself to know that.

She didn't like the way the patient's eyes followed her, but she masked it easily enough. She wanted to get a closer look at the back of his head, if he had indeed fallen then it was possible that he may have damaged his skull. Unfortunately the closer she got, the scarier the patient appeared, and she wasn't quite sure whether or not this patient was psycho enough that he would attempt biting her fingers off if she tried getting too close; she remembered a few months back a security guard had came to the Medical Facility in critical condition, she hadn't actually attended to him herself but she had heard through the others that he had lost hand to an angry inmate.

She had heard of most of the inmates here, it was impossible not to if you worked at Arkham, discussing inmates held within the asylum was inevitable. But the name Jonathan Crane didn't strike her as particularly scary, or memorable, if anything it sounded like the name of a high school tutor.

"What I don't understand is how he could end up falling off a bench, let alone knock himself out without there being some cause for him to fall in the first place, such as a cardiac arrest or seizure; neither of which was mentioned. Or does the tale go differently?" she asked them.

"Patient Crane was found slumped over in his cell for no apparent reason. We thought, and personally I still think, it was a prank. We left him for around half of an hour, he didn't move so I had the guards move in and take him out just in case. Why he would bother doing such a thing is a mystery, and an annoying one." Dr. Bailey pointedly glared at the patient who at this point was making a tutting noise in response.

"Dr…Crane." She stumbled over using the word Dr. since it did not seem to fit the person she was addressing at all. "Are you injured in anyway?"

"I feel fine miss, but I don't think I can say the same about you. You seem very nervous."

Clara scowled and decided to give up on finding out whether or not he had actually been injured, so instead she decided to try seeing for herself again. She gave him a quick check up, heart rate was normal as was breathing, the patient was perfectly calm. She noted his pale skin and visible ribs, it was obvious he hadn't seen the sun for quite some time and... she poked disapprovingly at his ribs with one hand, the patient was obviously suffering malnutrition, they were not feeding him enough, or he wasn't eating enough. For all she knew this guy could be anorexic as well as insane. But otherwise he seemed perfectly healthy, just annoyed at being tied down to a stretcher, and quite frankly who wouldn't be?

"Patient seems to be in satisfactory condition, but is being rather uncooperative." she stated to the two others, Crane tutted in the background again.

She quickly scribbled down her theory and evaluation on a clean sheet of paper on the clipboard, then she handed it back to Dr. Myles. "But the patient is seriously underweight which could lead to future complications if not dealt with soon, how regularly is he fed?"

"The same as every other regular inmate here, he just doesn't eat that often and no on here is going to force him." replied Dr. Bailey.

"Does the patient suffer anorexia?"

"Quite possibly."

"Anorexia is a very dangerous mental illness, as his doctor you should probably discuss this with him in the near future. Someone may also need to keep an eye on him for the next hour or so just to make sure whether or not there really was a cause for his collapse."

Dr. Bailey, seeming to be rather put off at her, snatched the board off Myles and proceeded to wheel the patient out of the room, grumbling to himself. Clara raised a wrist and glanced down at the time, then made a face as she realized it was already five past midnight. She sighed, snatched up her medical kit and began to put away the equipment she had taken out. Overhead the intercom turned on:

"New patient in the intensive treatment lobby, all non-essential staff to vacate the area."

A/N: This chapter was set just before the Arkham Asylum game, the night Batman takes Joker back after he set fire to the Mayor's office. Crane faked his fall to make it easier for him to escape once Joker had taken over the Asylum.

I've already got the second chapter ready and I'll post it as soon as it has been spell checked :)


	2. Chapter 2: Tired

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Batman: Arkham Asylum (c) to DC Comics, Rocksteady Studios and whoever-else-made-it

**Author's Note:** Not all the dialogue fits accurately, and personally I know little to nothing about how doctor ranking worked in Arkham, so I'm making it up, if anyone knows otherwise though, please tell me :)

I was going to wait until I had finished chapter 3 before posting this but...this would have taken a longer time.

**Summary: **Don't talk to strangers, especially if you can't see who they are. You may well regret it later. Unfortunately for Clara, this is exactly what she has done.

**Chapter 2**

**Tired**

_"New patient in the intensive treatment lobby, all non-essential staff to vacate the area."_

"Well I'm presuming that is my cue to leave the building." stated Clara aloud, she turned to Theodore. "Nice to see you again, Dr. Myles."

She picked up her medical kit, and had began to head back the way she had came, when she realized Myles was following her. She looked over at him, he grinned sheepishly.

"I'm not actually err…in the essential staff category myself, I'm err...I don't have my security pass thing or...err. I'm supposed to be with Dr. Bailey, but he _IS _essential staff and err..."

"...you have to leave the building until the patient has been transferred?" finished Clara for him.

"Yes, I do. Well actually I would prefer to head back to my office, but I have to have Dr. Bailey's leave for that you see."

"Do you mind if I call you Theo?"

"Not at all, but I _**am**_a doctor. I've got a certificate, you know?"

Clara nodded and carried on, it wasn't that she didn't like Myles, or rather Theo, she wouldn't have minded catching up with him if it had been another time of day. Yeah, it was more the fact that he was quickly beginning to annoy her and she was already feeling irritated, she knew she had definitely missed any chance of getting back home and now she just wanted nothing more than to get out of the Intensive Treatment building and head back to her office and fall asleep.

Up ahead of them a large group of guards had grouped around the elevator back up; she saw the elevator was already going up. She made to pass them and wait for the elevator to return to the ground floor but before they even got there one of the guards spotted her and Myles and blocked their way.

"I'm sorry, doc, but we got a psycho coming this way. All non essential personnel are supposed to have cleared the area."

Theo began to stutter a reply but Clara beat him to it.

"We _are_ evacuating the area, but to do so we need to return to the upper floor." She said curtly to the guard; but he just shook his head.

"Orders are orders, doc. You and your little friend find another way up. Or at least get far away from the lobby as you can, it ain't us just trying to be difficult, this is standard safety precautions."

Theo seemed to be having difficulty breathing, he face had gone quite red, he started to stutter an angry reply but before he could do so Clara put a hand on his shoulder and redirected him so that he was facing away from the guard. Theo was short, and when Clara had known him he had taken a great offence when ever anyone pointed this out, he obviously hadn't changed.

"Seriously, it will only take a second. We just need to get to the upper floor and we'll be gone." She said to guard, more than just a little annoyed herself. The guard didn't answer, and never bothered because at that moment the intercom replied for him:

"_Alert in Intensive Treatment. Category 9 patient in imminent transit, all non-essential staff to vacate the area immediately."_

The elevator was coming back down now, the guards around them were now getting rather animated, stepping back and forth, raising their guns towards the elevator. One of them waved them away. Not wishing to stick around while the dangerous patient was being transported, Clara turned around and went back the way she had came, Theo quickly following after her.

"Do you know of any other ways up?" she asked him. Theo squinted a moment, then shrugged his shoulders.

"I think there may be a stairwell in the west wing of the building, we could try exiting there."

"_Alert in Intensive Treatment. Category 9 patient in transit. Pacification system activated. Shoot to kill permissions granted."_

"Well that's nice to know." Muttered Theo sarcastically, Clara nodded in agreement. "Pity that rule only applies to the guards."

They avoided several halls which were labeled with untrustworthy titles such as _Patient Cells _or _Pacification Confinement _as they made their way back through the complex slowly.

"_Intensive Treatment lower floors are now at level Red Alpha."_

"What?" yelped Clara in surprise. Theodore just mumbled:

"It's just a practiced warning, they do it every time there's a dangerous patient being transported, they want the guards to be on alert, just in case something were to happen. So far though, since I been here anyway, no ones made a break out attempt. It seems very safe here to me."

"How long have you been working here?"

"Just over a week. You?"

"It's coming up to six months in another day or two. I don't work on this half of the island normally, it seems too dangerous. And trust me, _**this **_place _**is**_ dangerous."

"But you work in the Medical Facility, right? They got the Penitentiary on that side of the island don't they? That's quite dangerous as well, I've heard of some of the patients confined there, a nasty bunch of people."

"Yeah, but it doesn't feel that way to me..." Clara trailed off, unable to back up her view of the island. "So how's life been? I haven't seen you for ages?"

"Going quite good actually." said Theo, looking pleased with himself. "I work here at Arkham for a year or so, then I will graduate from a junior to a senior doctor like Bailey and have my pay doubled. But the best part is that I now have a fiancée. You might know her, she's called Adelicia Atkins, she studied law and order."

Clara did know Adelicia, and remembered her as a very pretty girl from back in high school, very intelligent too, Clara remembered being jealous. How Theo had ended up with her was a mystery, one that Clara couldn't care for. Clara brushed the question off without a word and changed the subject.

"And how are you liking it here at Arkham?"

Theodore blinked as if he didn't understand the question for a moment, or maybe she had already asked the question before, Clara didn't care though; if she didn't go to sleep soon she knew she would probably ask the same thing another five times, and probably in succession too.

"It's not actually that bad, ignore the patients and most of the time they will ignore you as well. As I've said there have been no break outs while I've been here, not even any attempts."

_Well it's good you didn't hear about the guard who had his hand torn off._ Clara thought to herself.

Theo continued on. "And I don't really mind dealing with the patients themselves, there are always guards nearby if they were ever needed. I admit I haven't dealt with any of the infamous villains everyone has heard about, well apart from Scarecrow back there.

"Scarecrow?" Now that name sounded more familiar.

"Jonathan Crane, it's his villain persona's name."

"_Ladies and maniacs, I apologize for this interruption to your regular entertainment. Up until a few seconds ago I was going to kill everyone in the room and then watch cartoons, but then…well…you know how I do love a captive audience."_

That did NOT sound like the warden, or any other voice she had ever heard over the intercom; it sounded suspiciously like a dreaded voice most of Gotham knew. She turned to Theodore wide eyed, hoping that this was just some prank that some of the guards liked playing when they were bored, maybe a drill. Unfortunately Theo looked just as shocked, could this be an actual breakout?

"Let's j-j-just continue on our way, and g-g-get out of here as soon as possible." said Theo quickly moving ahead of her, she silently agreed and moved after him.

They passed a section of the building and went up a spiral staircase, only to be disappointed when they realized it came to a dead end, nothing more than a notice board and a few chairs. Clara looked at Theo feeling very much annoyed, he just shrugged his shoulders.

"I was sure these stairs led out, but I don't know everything you know. I told you before, I'm new here."

They both quickly hurried back down again. By now the voice over the intercom had been speaking for quite a while, and it could be guessed that the voice was speaking to someone in particular, rather than addressing them all, apparently it was to the aptly named Batman, the local batty lunatic who caught all the other lunatics and brought them here. Clara had heard of him through the news. While she was panicking, the intercom came on again, but this time it was the usual voice.

_"Warning, Security breach in section B1." _Coincidentally they were just passing a security fed screen when this occurred and they saw live footage of Blackgate inmates running wild. Clara bit her lip and hurried along, ignoring the intercom as it went on to list every other security breach possible. She thought, wryly to herself, that if this all turned out to all be just one giant prank then she swore she was going to kill who ever had decided upon it, or at least hurt them badly in one way or another...

Clara suddenly found that she wasn't feeling so tired after all.

_"Warning, Intensive Treatment lower floors are at level Red Alpha. All transport links are temporarily disabled."_

"We're on the lower floor aren't we?" Clara asked almost hopefully, _almost_, as in hoping that maybe there was another floor below this, after all she had seen that the elevator did go down again after it reached this floor.

"This is the lower floor, there's only one floor below this and I do not think it can actually be labeled as a_ floor,_ and I have no idea what its use is. I think it may lead to an old sewer network or something. I have an idea! Let's go back to the elevator where those guards were! We stand a better chance that way! They will know what is happening." he immediately began to hurry back the way they had came before Clara could even voice her opinion, not eager to be left alone though, she followed after him.

_"Transport to upper floors is now permitted to staff with correct security clearance. Security level is now at Orange Alpha, Pha pha, ha ha ha, haaaaaaaaaaarr."_

The intercom seemed to give after this point, presumably broken_. _Clara had began to run_. _But by the time they had reached the elevators it was clear that there was a problem. For one thing the guards were gone, and secondly one of the elevators lay smashed and broken as if dropped from a great height. The remaining elevator was in a fine condition though, but was on the floor below, all they needed to do was to call it up with ID card. Clara looked at Theodore expectantly, but he just stared back at her, wide eyed.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked him. "Call up the elevator."

"I don't have the security clearance, I mentioned it earlier, I thought you did!"

"I don't have clearance either. I don't even work in this building!"

"Dr. Bailey has clearance, I'll go find him!" he replied, thinking quickly.

"I wouldn't recommend it, didn't you see all those lunatics running around? If you bump into one you're as good as dead."

"Well something has to be done, and it's better than standing around here all night doing nothing! We'd be like sitting ducks! You stay here, I'll find Dr. Bailey and then we can all get out of here!" Theodore then hurried off, but not before grabbing a nearby broom and raising it to rest on his shoulder, like he believed it was of great power; Clara was not impressed.

"That isn't going to be good defense!" she shouted after him, trying to discourage him from leaving her alone.

"It's better than nothing!"

Clara listened as the sound of Theodore's foot steps faded away to nothing, and then she realized just how silent the place had truly gone; and this only frightened her more. She looked at the security grate in front of her and then looked down at her ID card clipped to the front of her coat. Did she have security clearance for the ground floor of Intensive Treatment? Probably not, afterall she wasn't even supposed to be in this building. But she could hope...

Hands shaking almost feverishly, she unclipped her ID card and ran it down the security card slot. Nothing happened. Gritting her teeth, she tried again, but she got the same response, not even a beep denying her access. Had the power gone? No, there were still lights on, maybe the elevator had been damaged, after all the other must have fallen quite a drop to cause it to break like that, who was to say that it didn't cause wiring damage to the other as well?

She bit back a scream of surprise as the elevator suddenly shuddered and began to come up, she almost felt like laughing in relief, until the elevator got to her floor and didn't stop. NO!

Clara swiped her card again, but the elevator just kept going up, then she had a horrid realization. The elevator hadn't come up because she had called it, no, someone on the upper floor had just called it up because they wanted to come down! Security clearance? But wouldn't that mean that they were another doctor or someone else sane? Why would a doctor come back down though? An inmate must have stolen a card, or was it a heroic doctor come to save the day? Highly unlikely.

The elevator was coming down now, and as it got nearer and nearer Clara got more and more fearful. She realized that if she didn't move now, then she could be in big trouble. Run after Theodore? No, her panicking mind believed that this was too much to take in and instead she jumped forward, aiming for an open air vent she had noticed, her hands caught on its edge but there was nothing to grip on to and she ended falling another eight feet.

She winced as she hit the ground, almost afraid to stand. Miraculously though, she had twisted neither ankle but the fall had still been frightening, and looking up she could still see the elevator coming down. Realizing that it could possibly stop at this floor instead of the one above she stood up quickly and looked around, there was an office behind her.

She hurried into the office and looked around, there were numerous pointless things lying around which she ignored, including several stupid monster posters. She spotted the lockers and mentally thanked whoever it had been who had forgotten to lock theirs. She opened it, wrenched out the light weight shelf, allowing every thing inside to clatter noisily to the ground. She quickly kicked anything in her way out of the locker and forced herself into it. The locker was small, but she could just fit, albeit uncomfortably. She stayed there.

She stayed there for hours, but it felt like days. She heard people come down at one point, while she couldn't quite hear what they were saying, though it sounded thuggish and aggressive. Then there had been shouting, then silence. Someone had later come into the office, strode around seemingly without purpose, then left; and that had been ages ago. There had been no noise down here since, and Clara was pretty sure she was alone.

It was getting incredibly uncomfortable and stuffy within the the locker and, despite the horrid situation at hand, Clara was finding herself incredibly bored. She had tried falling asleep, she had failed. She had tried entertaining herself with thoughts of what she would do once she was off the island again, she had failed again when she had begun to have worrying thoughts about leaving her current job for good; shattering her current life style, not to mention the horror she felt of all the lives lost of all those still unfortunate enough to be on the island...

She had tried peeking through the grate on the upper half of the locker's door once or twice, but all she could see was a few paper documents and a very uninteresting desk.

Unable to stand it anymore, as thoughts of the others above going home and celebrating as the outbreak had been cleared, she cautiously pushed the locker door open, wincing as the door made a loud creaking noise. No one came running though, just like she had suspected; there was no one here. She stepped out of the office and noticed the elevator was on the same floor, she ran over to it noticing with horror that there was a bunch of unconscious prisoners lying around on the ground; beaten and bleeding. There had been a fight here, and not long ago.

Once again the elevator chose to be stubborn and did not allow her to go up. Still seriously nervous and unhappy with her current situation, not to mention worried that the thugs lying around on the ground would wake up, she looked around again.

Would she just have to wait around? Hide in a locker again? For how long? What if the thugs woke up and found her! She noticed a door, heavy set and made of metal. Shrugging at the hopelessness of it all, she went through.

It seemed to lead to a corridor, this gave her some hope. Distantly she could hear a great rumbling, it sounded rather like a river. This part of the building, she noted, seemed extremely old, probably remains of the original building from when the asylum had first been founded. This place seemed almost like it hadn't been used it years, but it had, she could see the metal floor beneath her feet was not that old, but it was certainly out of condition. This place was still used, this could be a way out. There was another heavy door ahead of her, she opened it and went through.

She almost was tempted to go back though once she went through, recoiling as she realized she was in a sewer. But there was no sign anyone was in here, and she doubted anyone could come down here anyway. The place was old, the walls were crumbling and the place smelt strongly of mold.

Up ahead of her was a walkway, she made her way over to it, running and jumping in an attempt to jump across the stream of water running across the floor; crying out in indignity as she missed her mark and her shoes filled with water.

The walkway went directly over the rushing water below, but the metal looked fairly new and didn't seem likely to break. She could see a door on the far end, maybe it led to the surface. So she walked along the walkway, sticking close to the wall. She then became aware of several wooden signs posted around another junction, this led to a dead end as a barrier of bars blocked the way.

She stopped and looked up at a large sign that was posted over the door, warnings and such, skulls. Was it possible this place was filled with poisonous gasses? She became aware of a putrid smell and noticed what appeared to be half a sheep hanging from the ceiling. More than willing to leave this place behind she would have left right then and there if it hadn't been for a loud curse. There was someone nearby.

Wide eyed she ignored the warnings and approached the metals bars. Peering through them she could see a big pit in the ground now, rubble lay around the place as if the incident had only recently occurred, as if the floor had caved in, and when she listened carefully she could hear water sloshing around at the bottom of the pit. Had someone fallen down there? She took her ID card again and slid it through the nearby control panel, the bars shuddered and went up. She was surprised.

Meanwhile, the sloshing in the pit below had stopped.

A/N: The sewer layout/design doesn't exactly fit that of the game; I know. This story is told through the way Clara perceives things, so for example things such as her seeing the "monster posters" was simply because she has never seen Killer Croc before, or when the intercom begins to "laugh" she simply thinks the thing has broken.


	3. Chapter 3: Irregular

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Batman: Arkham Asylum (c) to DC Comics, Rocksteady Studios and whoever-else-made-it

**Author's Note:** A big thanks to all those who faved and reviewed and a big thanks to _jazz-sparks_.

_jazz-sparks_: Thanks so much for your constructive critisism, I went through chapter 1 & 2 and changed some of the story to make it seem more realistic :) I realize what you mean, no matter who she was, after working at the Asylum for six months it would have been impossible not to have heard of the patients through other doctors.

Also a big mistake on my part which no one thankfully noticed. I mentioned Bane as if he was an Arkham patient, my mistake, he was never supposed to be there, he was a Blackgate Prisoner and was supposed to be on the run at the time Joker took over the Asylum (though in reality we all know he was being experimented on).

I hope this chapter is okay, it done ages ago but I wasn't pleased with it, and admittedly I'm still not 100%, Croc is probably OOC in this chapter.

**Summary: **Don't talk to strangers, especially if you can't see who they are. You may well regret it later. Unfortunately for Clara, this is exactly what she has done.

**Chapter 3**

**Irregular**

"Is someone down there?" she shouted down the pit. The immediate answer was a growl, sharp, like a cross between a grumble and a sharp intake of breath, it sounded inhuman.

Clara couldn't see the bottom of the pit from where she was crouched, it was too dark, it looked like it never ended, if whoever it was down there had truly fallen all that way then there was a very large chance that they werer severly injured.

"Who's there?" she called. No answer, just a splash. "Are you okay?"

This time there was no response whatsoever, and Clara began to wonder whether it was an animal that had fallen down the pit, but she could have swore she heard someone swear, maybe it had been her imagination. But then someone finally did respond, and they said:

"Ever fallen 50 feet? Try it and then come back and tell me how _you_ feel, bitch."

The voice was unusual, but then maybe it was simply distorted by the tunneling. Clara felt slightly more cautious now, the name calling indicated that they were either an escaped patient or prisoner, or perhaps someone in extreme pain. She automatically began to picture them in her mind's eye, male she guessed, but due to the fact that she couldn't even make out a shape down in the dark of the pit she couldn't even begin to imagine what they would truly look like, for now the speaker was an angry Blackgate Prisoner with a heavily scarred face, a thick jaw and broken bones.

"Are you from Blackgate?" she asked suspiciously, not that it mattered, Arkham or Blackgate, anyone from either were dangerous.

There was silence, then there was a rumble followed by a crackling sound which she could only interpret as laughing. "I ain't no Blackgate prisoner."

"Are you an Arkham inmate then?"

"You could say that." This was followed by a dark chuckle, then silence.

"Are you injured?"

The inmate didn't respond. Clara still couldn't make anything out down below, all she could hear was the continuous dripping of water from somewhere nearby and the occasional splash as the trapped inmate moved around below. It was quite obvious he had hurt himself in one way or another, he may have not realized it but he had already subconciously admitted he was injured. Clara looked over her shoulder, back towards the sewer and listened for the possible approach of danger. But the sewer drowned out any chance of her hearing anything back that way, or anyone hearing her for that matter.

Over on the opposite side of the pit Clara could see the tunnel she was in continued for a bit before opening out, she couldn't see into what but she guessed there was the possibility that it led to the surface. She eyed the narrow metal ledge that surrounded the pit, her only means of getting across. _Don't forget there's still that other door back the way you came._ She told herself. _It is probably the wiser option as well._

"Err...I am going to go now and try finding a way to the surface." she said down to the trapped patient. "You stay here until I get back."

There was a growl, but no words. Clara stood up and began heading back the way she had came, only for the metal gate to come crashing back down in front of her. She swore, surprised. Behind her the inmate laughed again, as if sensing her predicament. She kneeled down and grasped the lowest horizontal bars and attempted to pull up, but the gate wouldn't budge. She looked around for a security panel, and found that there wasn't one on this side of the bars. Well this was stupid. Who the hell had thought up this stupid layout?

She rattled the bars in futile attempt, trying to get them to move, but after five minutes of this she gave up and headed back over to the pit. She eyed the metal ledge, it obviously wasn't meant for walking on, it was just what was left from when the floor here had caved in. She noticed piping along the walls, just above her height but close enough for her to grab hold of, and hopefully enough to help her keep her balance. As she took her first step out onto the ledge the inmate below began to splash around again, she grit her teeth and thought wryly to herself that the whole thing was like in a movie where there weould be sharks swimming around below; only whoever it was below was not a shark but likely as not an extremely dangerous inmate, not that she would have to worry about that since the fall would probably kill her first.

Once she had reached the other side she could barely believe it, fighting back the urge to laugh in hysteria she half ran, half stumbled down the tunnel. But it only led to nowhere.

A great open cavern, an old out-of-use sewer network, nothing but water and crumbling walls. It seemed to go on forever in every direction she looked, there were a few broken planks floating around in the water but no way across, or even evidence that there was anything across from where she was. The smell of rotting flesh was even stronger here, above the doorway, and either wall beside the end of the tunnel she had just emerged from, there were more bits of dead animals hanging from hooks.

There was a groan very close by, it sounded almost human, but Clara guessed it was just the...what? Clara did not believe in ghosts but suddenly the open cavern seemed much more frightening. Hurriedly she backed out and went back over to where the pit was. She considered crossing over again but decided against it. She sat down beside the pit and peered in again, the splashing had stopped but she knew the inmate was still there.

"Is there any way out of this place?" she called down.

"Yeah! About 200 feet above us." came the gruff reply, obviously sarcastic...again. Not knowing what to say Clara didn't reply. She rested her back against the wall and tried to ignore the stench of rotting flesh and the damp. Some time passed and incredibly Clara found herself itching for conversation, it only got worse as time passed.

"Since I'm guessing we're both going to be stuck here for quite a while, I guess it can't hurt to talk." she said finally, mentally hitting herself for cracking. "...What is your name?"

"None of your business."

"Mine's Dawson." she continued, ignoring the fact she hadn't been given a proper reply. "Dr. Clara Dawson. I work in the Medical Facility." _You idiot! You don't give your freaking full name to a psycopathic lunatic! _But right now Clara couldn't be bothered to tell herself off and just decided to roll with it; but the patient didn't seem to notice.

"Like I care! So many bloody docs running round here...You'll fucking pointless if you ask me!"

"Well aren't you just charming. I'll have you know that I graduated with great marks! What marks did you get? Did you even go to university?" The words were out of her mouth before she had even processed them, she supposed it was stress of the situation, maybe along with the fact that she had not slept in close to what must have been at least eighteen hours, but she had no way of telling since she had no clock. She had risen at 6:30 AM that morning to get to work in time, she had stayed over time and had still been in the building at midnight; who knew how many hours it had been since then...

The inmate was silent for a while, Clara guessed he was either thinking back a retort, ignoring her or just outright fuming. She suddenly didn't feel so safe sitting beside the pit and stood up. At that moment there was a completely unexpected, and very much frightening, animal like roar from the pit below.

"Don't get too cocky, bitch! Just coz you're outta reach now, don't mean you'll be outta reach later. I've got your scent, I will hunt you down!"

"I must really smell then, don't I?" Once again the words weren't planned but this time Clara didn't really care. It was not like the situation could actually get any worse, and she did feel cocky, the angry patient couldn't reach her and she doubted she would ever hear of him again after this was all over, she just didn't really care what she said now. "But what can you expect? I've been working all day, I didn't plan to staying out this late, nor did I plan on getting trapped in Intensive Treatment for the night. You think I planned this?"

The inmate was once again silent. Clara sighed, almost wishing he would shout again. She just wanted to hear a voice, to have something to keep her mind wandering to what could be happening above, to what could be happening to people up there, some of whom she was friends with and knew well. Her confidence dropped and she became mopey.

"I'm sorry. I'm just feeling really nervous right now with what's happening up on the surface, that's all." she said finally, sitting down again and running a hand through her auburn hair. "I've been sitting in a tiny metal locker for the past few hours and I only got out a few minutes back. It was not fun... How long you been down there for?" She didn't think he would respond, but he did.

"'bout half an hour. The floor exploded."

"Why?"

"Someone planted a bomb on it, why else do ya think it would explode? You ain't that smart for a doc. But then again all the docs I met ain't that smart anyway."

"You haven't lost any limbs have you? And explosion big enough to cave the floor must have been quite powerful!"

The inmate didn't reply. He had to be injured, but wouldn't admit it. Probably a macho thing, not admitting to being in pain, Clara decided she didn't care; she wouldn't have been able to help him anyway from where she was, nor did she really want to. Over the rushing of the nearby sewer, and the steady drip, drip of the damp, Clara heard the groan again. It wasn't coming from the pit, it had to be piping. Was the ceiling about to cave in? This place was quite old.

"How stable is the ceiling of this place?" she asked.

"Stable enough."

There was another groan, this time unmistakably human. Clara stood up and began to walk back to the open cavern again, she looked from around but could not place the origin of the sound. Then she heard a light clinking of metal against metal, she looked up to where the dead animals hang and screamed as she realized one of them was actually a man. He may have been dressed in a way that almost made him unrecognizable, made him look almost inhuman, but a memory of a name came floating back that fit his appearance perfectly: _Scarecrow_.

It was Dr. Jonathan Crane.

* * *

A/N: Crane fans please don't be angry, I swear he's not going to die!


	4. Chapter 4: Monster

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Batman: Arkham Asylum (c) to DC Comics, Rocksteady Studios and whoever-else-made-it

**Author's Note:** Two chapters for you today! Because these two were due ages ago. Chapter 5 is already underway! Constructive critisism appreciated, flamers...not so much (not that there have been any :)

**Summary: **Don't talk to strangers, especially if you can't see who they are. You may well regret it later. Unfortunately for Clara, this is exactly what she has done.

**Chapter 4**

**Monster**

She had been unable to get him down, or at least immediately. She had been horrified more than anything, there had been blood everywhere. Running down the walls and pooling on the stone floor. It was impossible for her to even guess how he had ended up where he was, it was almost like someone had slammed him down on the meathook; like a worm on a fishhook.

She grimaced at the state he was in, barely concious, he had lost a huge amount of blood; and the damp, unsanitory conditions of the sewer were not helping. He seemed to be barely concious, she doubted he even knew she was there. She could only imagine the pain he was in.

It was physically impossible for her to even reach him, the best she would have been able to do was gently tap his ankle when she stretched her arm out above her on tip toes. She had bit her lip and paced back and forward, racking her brain for an idea on how to get the patient down. She knew that if he wasn't moved soon then he would die.

The answer had came to her, but it was more a happening rather than anything on her part. There was a sickening rip and very suddenly the patient was face down on the ground. Clara ran over to him and crouched beside him, she noted that the actual source of the ripping sound had been part of the cowl the patient was wearing, but this was only an after image of what had happened. There was already a long gash across the man's back, almost invisible underneath the blood; the skin had already ripped, the hook had simply caught onto the cowl once it had passed through.

It was a miracle in itself that the man had not already bled to death, but he was so close to it now Clara was worried she wouldn't be able to save him. She had never seen someone die and she was sure she never wanted to. She pulled off what remained of the cowl up rather than pulling it off as she realized it was attached to him by a loop of rope around his neck, and right now she had more urgent things to attend to.

She took off her thin white coat and pressed down on the wounds with as much pressure as she could apply. She knew what she really needed was antiseptic, water and clean cotton. Unfortunately though all she had was antibiotics, but it was better than nothing at all. And bandages, she had those too.

It was only made harder by the fact that the patient was unconcious and lying down, and if she moved him the bleeding would only worsen, but if nothing was done then the patient would die. She took her coat off the injury and quickly applied the antibiotic solution, bandaged the patient and then she pressed down with her coat and held still.

It was still hours before anyone appeared. People at the entrace to the tunnel, she saw them and noticed they were officials like herself, not inmates run wild. She shouted to them, stressed and fearful, they had spotted her. Another ten minutes a makeshift bridge had been made over the pit despite the fearsome growling coming from within it. Other doctors appeared, ones she didn't know, obviously not from Arkham.

They rushed over and rolled him onto a stretcher and carried him out, one hurriedly signallingfor her to follow them. She did so without question, crossed over the pit which had gone silent again, and travelled up the floors via the elevator and all the way back to the Medical Centre.

Arkham's grounds were in complete ruin and jeopardy, it seemed almost as if the grounds had been hit by a massive storm. Walls lay crumbled and broken, windows smashed and statues vandalized. And the bodies…

At least they had been mostly covered up but she had to look away, dead guards and doctors, she knew she must have seen some of them while they were still alive...it made her feel sick. Leaving this job seemed like a very good idea right now.

Once the patient had been succesful moved to the Medical Facility, other doctors took over and someone came to tend to her personally, to make sure she was okay. By this point Clara was so tired that she was beginning to lose track of what was going on. With the great wave of relief from surviving the whole ordeal came reality, and the reality was that she had not slept for more than a day. Clara shrugged off the person attending to her as quickly as she could, then she had headed to her office. She couldn't be bothered to find her car now, she couldn't be bothered to drive all the way home, it was all just too much. She had immediately slumped on to the cheap partly made bunk provided, that _they_ called a bed, and had fallen asleep almost instantly.

* * *

She slept deeply, and probably would not have awoken until the next evening if someone hadn't come to collect her five hours after she had hit the bed. She had blinked blearily at them, trying to decifer what they were saying to her.

She hadn't left the island, they had thought she was still working here, all the doctors who had stayed behind were volunteers, hoping to help put the asylum together once more. They had presumed she had volunteered as well, and so she was several hours late for her shift, they had sent someone to make sure she was okay. She was okay, so now they were supposed to take her back. Did she still want to work here? Well, she decided, that decision would just have to come later.

They were still combing the grounds and buildings for people as she went past, not everyone had been found still, thankfully though all the bodies that had been around previously were now gone. They actually seemed rather unsure where to take her, there were just so many patients and so little organization. They had let her in the medical wards where many, many people had been taken. Clara stayed here for a while, tending to the injured, a majority of them were guards, there was only one or two Blackgate thugs but both were thankfully sedated when she checked on them.

Everyone in the ward had been gruesomely injured, those that hadn't been injured severely had been taken to the mainland hospitals. Clara ended up asking another doctor, not an Arkham doctor but a lively overenthusiastic one from Gotham, about the patient she had dealt with the day before, Dr. Jonathan Crane. She was surprised when she heard that he was still alive. When her lunch break came around and she went to the patient's ward. She was partly hoping she would find Theodore, she knew that he and Dr. Bailey were assigned to the patient, it was quite possible that they would be there.

But the ward was almost empty but for the one occupied bed of a very pale man. He was alive, he was breathing, he almost seemed peaceful and harmless but Clara immediately spotted the soot black cuffs around both the patient's wrists, present to keep him from moving. There was already a doctor there, not to mention two sleepy looking guards who were resting against the wall talking between themselves.

The doctor looked up at a her as she approached. A new face, a handsome face. The doctor nodded at her and smiled in a good natured way.

"Are you the famous Dr. Dawson?" he asked, confusing Clara.

"I am Dr. Dawson, but I don't know anything about being famous." she replied, unable to hold back a grin as she shook his hand.

"Don't be modest, practically everyone on the island has now heard about the doctor who was trapped inside Killer Croc's cell during the takeover, not to mention saved Scarecrow here from certain doom, that part is more of infamous nature though, no one on this island really wants him alive."

"That's a bit harsh isn't it, he's lying right there."

"He can't hear me, he's still out of it. He was extremely lucky, most people in his case would be dead by now."

Clara nodded, as it seemed to be the only appropriate gesture that could come to mind. The other doctor took his leave and she was left standing beside the unconscious patient. He seemed to be in stable condition, there wasn't really anything she could do for him. Clara appeared to be watching Scarecrow but reality she was thinking back to what had happened.

Killer Croc…she had heard that name before. Hadn't he been the one who had torn off that guard's hand? It suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea what the convict looked like, she remembered what she had heard of him now though, but she had heard so much about everyone here it was hard to remember which facts and stats applied to who. Had Killer Croc been the inmate stuck down that hole? It didn't really make any difference...but what had happened to him, or whoever it had been down in that pit now? Was he still there?

A glint of movement caught her eye and Clara looked up, or rather down at the face of Scarecrow. His eyes were open, he was conscious, and he was looking right at her.

"You're very lucky I found you." she informed him. "You were dying."

Scarecrow just stared blankly.

The two guards came over at this point, aware that the patient was awake.

"It's a pity you didn't leave this one to die, doc." one of the guards told her, acting oblivious to the fact that patient was right beside them. "He's actually the reason some of the people within this asylum are here, they were respectable people once too, his insanity is like a deadly virus, it infects almost anyone he talks to."

Clara could practically feel the hidden hatred rolling off the guards, and realized it wouldn't be safe to leave the room just yet. There was nothing to do now and she could just go and relax now, but that wasn't necessarily what Clara wanted, while she wouldn't have minded a little extra time to rest, the inevitable rush of uncertainty was very much present now that was awake again. Clara did not want to be in this ward where two Arkham guards were itching for revenge, where a severely injured patient rasped for every breath and where she was all alone in a practically empty ward without a word from outside and only her memory of the grounds she had just seen.

The ward's door swung open and in marched three doctors, though stumbling was a better description from one of the elder of the three. The other two doctors were clearly not from Arkham and had been transferred over here, the third did work here but was obviously tired, though he was trying not to let it show, he was the head of the Medical Facility, but he looked so run down that Clara was surprised that he had volunteered to come into work at all. Immediately Clara felt a great respect for head doctor, a respect which had been absent before, as referring to the head doctor as Mr. Grouchy or Turkey Neck behind his back had not been uncommon among the lower ranking doctors before, Clara had been amongst them.

Mr. Stone, as was his real name, though this had been mocked as well of course, noticed her and gave her a curt nod. As soon as he was nearer he addressed her.

"Dr. Dawson, it is good to see that you are of good health. There was a man requesting for you in Intensive Treatment a while ago, I was advised to inform you if we crossed paths." His tired grey eyes flickered over to the patient.

Clara suddenly realized she had completely forgotten about him and Dr. Bailey after they had departed the evening before, but Theodore was alone and Dr. Bailey was nowhere in sight.

"I must congratulate you on your save." continued Dr. Stone. "You got to patient Crane just in the nick of time, a few minutes later and well…he would not longer be in the land of the living, if he ever was. You acted accordingly and fast, this will most certainly go on your record."

Clara was unable to keep the corners of her mouth tugging into small smile, feeling more like she was back at school again and had just got an A+ rather than just saved a criminal psychopath. She thanked him and left the Medical Building, but it wasn't until she was standing right outside the front of Intensive Treatment that she hesitated whether or not she actually wanted to go in, she didn't even know who was asking for her, or why they needed her here; it all seemed rather dodgy.

But it was day now, and there were people with sane mentality everywhere, all the inmates had been subdued. It was safe for now.

She decided to not think about it and went in without a thought. She noticed there were new guards everywhere, just in case, but there was also other new people everywhere cleaning up and testing out equipment, she later overheard there was a worry going about that Joker had left booby-traps lying around.

She wandered around the upper floor for a while, just watching, no one called her over so she presumed the person who wanted her wasn't up here. She eventually asked, someone pointed her towards the elevators and told her to go into the first office that branched off the main cell block. She eventually found two doctors and a guard standing around a locked closet door without reason. She approached.

"Dr. Dawson? Good, you're here." said the guard whom she didn't recognise, he pointed towards the closet. "There's a guy in there who's refusing to come out, he claims he knows you."

Clara went over to the closet door and knocked.

"This is Dr. Clara Dawson, may I ask who's on the other side of this door?"

"Clara? Is th-that you?" The high pitched needy voice was immediately recogniseable.

"Yes, I just said it was. Why are you in there, Theo?"

"It's dangerous outside."

"Yeah, it was, but now it isn't. Well as least as safe as Arkham is normally."

There was a clicking of a lock and Theo cautiously peeked around the door and then beamed upon catching sight of her.

"Are you a group of survivors who all need to hide?"

Clara sighed and pulled the door fully open, causing Theodore to stumble back rapidly, terrified.

"Stop being silly and come out, the whole riot finished hours and hours ago."

"You don't know what it's like! I-I was chased for ages! They wanted to k-kill me!" Theo stopped and suddenly looked a bit put off. "Why didn't anyone tell me the riot was over? I've been hiding in this closet for hours!"

"We did." said the deep voiced guard, pointing at himself and the others with him. "But you didn't believe us."

Theo scowled. "You sounded like thugs to me. You don't get it! I saw bodies!"

Clara finally noticed the absence of Dr. Bailey. Theodore was alone.

"Where is Dr. Bailey?" she asked.

"Dr. Bailey is dead! I saw his b-body...just lying there next to a patient stretcher. I think Scarecrow must have got him! He was faking the entire time!" Theo began to show signs of growing hysterical, it was clear the incident had all been too much for him to handle. "Does everyone know I'm still alive? Has anyone called my fianceé yet? I just want to go home..."

"Someone get this man to a phone." commanded the guard. "Let's just hope he isn't going to end up incarcerated here as well. Dr. Dawson, I heard there's been some complications down on the underground floor, a patient fell down this pit and they can't get him out. He may be injured, you could be needed there."

They all went back to the elevators, they allowed Clara to go first as her stop wasn't as far before returning to the upper floor themselves. Upon returning to the third floor Clara began to feel unsettled. The thugs who had been lying around unconcious on the ground were absent now, obviously removed for medical check ups and put back in their cells. The place was anything but empty though, it was bustling with people cleaning up the office and moving around, it was clear to Clara though that a majority of the personel were guards rather than doctors, they all seemed anxious, as if expecting something.

Clara made her way back to where she remembered she had been trapped previously. Makeshift gangplanks had been added onto the walkways where parts had broken off, making the paths wider and easier to get along. This was about where things got difficult though, there were a lot of people here and not a lot of room.

"...at least they got a trank in him, but no one knows how long that's going to last, last time they thought they had been under control he bit off the head of security's hand." she overheard someone say. "He ain't cooperating either, won't say anything to anyone. Just keeps cursing and growling."

More people arrived, security personnel. Clara was forced to go back as there was no room anymore. She went over to the office and had a look around at the mess, she had nothing to do here now, it would probably be smart for her to return to the Medical Facility and check if there were any patients that needed attending. But Clara was very self centered right now, she had been awake for more than twenty four hours and had barely had any sleep, she felt she deserved some downtime, so she settled back against one of the walls within the office and pretended to be sorting out paperwork. In reality she was just going through her own old folder she had already done the day before. It wasn't until there great noise outside that she got up and headed out.

It appeared that the security force had finally managed to extract the injured patient, but nothing could have prepared Clara for what she saw next. Though he was well and truly shackled, half unconcious so he was only partly aware of his surroundings to keep the people around him safe, Clara was immediately aware of the terrifying power this creature emanated.

Fangs too large to even be considered remotely human, empty inhuman eyes.

This was truly a monster.


	5. Chapter 5: Abnormal

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Batman: Arkham Asylum (c) to DC Comics, Rocksteady Studios and whoever-else-made-it

**Author's Note:** Half of the next chapter is already written. Am having serious writer's block for all my stories right now. I hope to publish the next chapter on the 25th but this may change. This chapter's a bit slow.

Thanx for all the alerts and faves! :)

**Chapter 5**

**Abnormal**

Adelicia came along to pick up Theodore very promptly, she had already been on her way when they had called. As Clara watched them drive away she wondered whether or not Theodore would ever work here again._ Probably not._ Her mind supplied, then she wondered whether or not he would ever be okay again, then she wondered whether or not she would crack up like him.

Clara shook herself mentally and regained her posture which had been leaning towards a slouch. It had been over an hour since she had been called to Intensive Treatment to remove Theodore. It hadn't been that long since she had seen that beastmanthing Killer Croc, she had heard he was a mass murderer, he had been the one who had torn off the hand of Aaron Cash; when she had first heard this it hadn't made any sense, she had imagined the gruesome incident had occurred with a blade, she had never imagined that the patient would have actually been physically capable of tearing off the hand with his own strength. _Bitten off, you mean._ Clara could remember some of the recounts more clearly now, no one had ever said torn, they had said bitten, but Clara had never taken it in before.

_And I was talking to him like he was normal person for ages! Well, an inmate person thingy...  
_

Her lunch hour over, Clara headed back to the Medical Facility. Her mind, though not quite set, was intent of taking her leave now and driving home for the next day and a half, and then maybe never returning...but she still thinking about it. What had happened to Theo had shaken her up somewhat, Clara was sure that she did not want to end up the same way.

She took the shortest cut back to her office, already packing her bag within her mind. Most of the stuff within her office belonged to the asylum rather than her so there wasn't really that much to do, no more than there would be on any ordinary day, in fact her bag was mostly packed still from the day before. She would barely have to do anything at all.

On the way over the island she had been pleased to note her car had not been amongst those damaged in the takeover, many had not been so fortunate; windows smashed in, doors missing, toothy grins spray painted onto their bonnets, one had even had a childishly written _buttman sux!_ written along both its sides in bold like the one who had done it thought it was really intelligent. All Clara's car had on it was several muddy shoe prints where some people had obviously climbed over her car, fortunately no damage though. Driving home _was_ at least a possibility.

As she approached her office though, Clara noticed the door was ajar. Feeling somewhat outraged that someone had gone into her office without her permission, she pushed open her door ready to exclaim in outrage at the intrusion when she realized it was Dr. Stone, her superior. He _was_ nosily looking around her office, but he was still Dr. Stone, and he was obviously waiting for her return. Apparently not noticing her, Dr. Stone continued to ignore her. Clara knocked loudly on the door, this made him turn quickly, he looked even more tired than he had before. He was the one who was going to need medical attention soon rather than being able to provide it.

"Dr. Dawson, good to see you. I was told I might find you here." said Dr. Stone readjusting his glasses. "There is currently quite a problematic situation on our hands. As you already know, there are many injured as a result of the most recent Joker incident, too many patients and not enough doctors. Not many doctors want to be present now that they can leave, and the incident has discouraged many outside from coming here. I, myself, am one of the few volunteers planning to stay over the weekend around the clock. But even for I and a handful of the most skillful doctors in all of Gotham it is almost impossible to deal with so many patients at the same time, especially with those of the more dangerous nature who we cannot transfer off the island for safety purposes."

Clara was quite aware of where this talk was leading, Dr. Stone had come here to talk her into staying, using morals and anything that might make her feel as if it was her duty to stay. It wasn't really working, Clara was still feeling rather selfish and felt more of an urge to help herself rather than anyone else, though the after effects of selfish self preservation had long since faded but her unease had not.

"I'm not sure, Dr. Stone. I am still feeling quite uneasy myself." She replied. "But does this volunteer work...include pay?"

Dr. Stone almost smiled, almost. "I thought you might ask that, and the answer is yes, by volunteering I simply meant staying on the island, something which very few people are willing to do right now. I, personally, as would all the patients awaiting treatment would be terribly grateful if you choose to stay."

Clara nodded. "I'll stay." then taking a more serious tone. "But I won't do this again next weekend. And I may want to take two days off the week to make up for this."

Dr. Stone smiled. "Thank you. We'll discuss your terms soon during the week, but right now I am extremely busy. Thanks for your cooperation." He then headed towards the door to leave while Clara went over to her office phone and picked up the reciever, she needed to call her family up. It surprised her that they hadn't called her already, the news of the Arkham attempted take over must be well known news now, even to those not living in Gotham. The phone was dead.

"All the lines are down, you may want to try a mobile instead." said Dr. Stone, standing in the door way. Clara looked up at him, slightly annoyed that he was still there, but made no comment, he obviously wasn't done with what he had to say. "There's one more thing I need to ask." _Big surprise..._"You have already worked with the patient called Scarecrow right? Upon aggreeing to stay you have automatically been assigned to look after the patient Crane part time, you are aware of this?" _Was not._ "Good. There is another patient though, who doesn't have a doctor assigned to him yet, I would be eternally grateful if you would take this assignment upon yourself."

Clara was instantly suspicious, something seemed awfully fishy about the way Dr. Stone said this.

"What is the patient's name?" she asked.

Dr. Stone hesitated a moment, but then promptly replied. "Waylon Jones." He then drew back slightly as if expecting an explosion, but he got no such thing from Clara, who blinked at him obliviously, having never heard the name before; but was still suspicious.

"Is he an Arkham patient?"

"Yes, he is."

"From Intensive Treatment?"

"Yes."

Clara sighed slightly. "I'm presuming the patient is also completely insane and highly dangerous." she said. "But I've never heard of him so he can't be that bad."

Dr. Stone immediately looked relieved. "So you will be taking the assigment?"

"I don't mind. I already have one highly dangerous patient in my care, it can't really be any worse. So what the hell, it doesn't change my weekend. I won't have them for more than a week or so right?"

Dr. Stone gave a slight shrug, seeming almost nervous, then quickly backed out of the room. It took Clara several seconds to realize, too late, that she while she had asked for the patient's name she had only been given the patient's real name rather than the nickname which she would have been more likely to recognise.

* * *

When the lunch hour was over, and after she had hastily stuffed herself with a very quickly made sandwich which she had grabbed from the Medical Facility's kitchens, Clara had headed back up to the second floor. She was handed her new agenda by an orderly and had looked it over quickly. She went past several wards, deciding to see her assigned patient before going to check back on the other wards. Once again the ward was almost empty, and tied down with more than just chains was the monster from old sewer work. Without thinking about it, Clara quickly backed out of the room, telling herself that there must have been a mistake and that she was in the wrong ward. And in trying to do so, Clara almost walked straight into another doctor. No, scratch that, it was the handsome doctor from earlier that day. She smiled.

"I'm sorry, I should watch where I'm going." she said shyly.

"No worries, I should probably tell people when I'm in the room." he said. "I am Dr. Peters, but you can call me Jason. Everyone else does. So, what are you doing in this ward? Surely you haven't been assigned here?"

"No, no I haven't." said Clara hastily shaking her head. "I walked into the wrong ward. I was looking for a Mr. Waylon Jones, I must have taken a wrong turn."

Dr. Peters, or Jason, smiled at her humourously.

"You're not in the wrong ward. " he told her. "A Waylon Jones is in here."

"But the only patient I see in here is Killer..." it suddenly dawned on Clara that Killer Croc was not a full name, this monster was actually human, even if it, _he_, didn't look like it. It only made sense that he would have a normal name, no wonder Dr. Stone had seemed so nervous.

"My mistake." she said quickly, while she wondered whether it really was in more way than one.

Killer Croc looked even larger than she remembered for several hours before. Unlike Scarecrow, who had just an ordinary patient's bed, this monster took up four beds which had been pushed together horizontally. There was a shining blue collar of some sorts around his neck that glowed faintly, it had to be either a tracker or some sort of shocker.

* * *

In Gotham Bay, several hours earlier something drenched in mud was washed ashore. Every so often, like a pulse, the thing glowed faintly green. Some curious gulls came waddling over to inspect, wondering what it was that had washed up upon the mud streamed sands of the bay. The thing was moving, it pulled itself further up the shore, it was human in shape but blown completely out of proportion and with each pulse its veins glowed a faint sickly green adding to an even more inhuman look. The figure pushed himself up with his immense strength, but there was obvious weakness, the figure shook like he hadn't eaten in months, like he was lacking something like a drug, almost as if he was poisoned by his own body.

Under one arm a box was clutched, the figure had clearly been using it to stay afloat but held it in a way that indicated it was much more, like a life's purpose, this man's purpose in life.

_Titan._

Bane growled.

* * *

"Is there something wrong with him?" Clara asked after several awkward minutes, in which there had been almost absolute silence while Jason gathered together his papers and sorted them, Clara being left to stand unsurely in the middle of the room. Once she had gotten at least partially over the patient's fearsome appearance she had been quick to realise that he was acting strangely, or at least differently that she expected him to. For the past several minutes he had been staring lazily at her, seemingly smiling in a genuine manner. She decided to ask Dr. Peters about it.

"He damaged his leg in the fall, we don't know how bad it is though until we get the x-rays back. I gave the patient some morphine to deal with pain."

"Hey, doc. You...looking somethin...burning like fire, yeah." the patient abruptly said, sharp grating voice having been silent till now.

"I wouldn't use morphine on a patient like him, if used in long term the withdrawal symptoms can be quite dramatic, and while I don't mean to critisize I think you may have given the patient a little more morphine than necessary." Somehow Clara found the patient's current stare more scary than the way the patient had been before.

Jason did not appear bothered. "It keeps the patient quiet, for the most part."

Clara suddenly found herself feeling outraged.

"**_Dr._** Peters, you cannot simply overdose a patient to keep them sedated for your own comfort! And as you probably already know by now, I am taking over this _man's_ case and I would very much appreciate it if you would never do something like this again." she stomped over to the patient's side, ignoring his fearsome appearance the best she could, as she set about removing the tubes and wires.

"You won't like him so much when he comes around again, Miss Dawson, I warn you." said Dr. Peters.

"Well if you have a problem then it may be for the best that you leave for now, and its Dr. Dawson; don't forget that."

Dr. Peters left without a word, obviously glad to be relieved of the patient. Clara looked down at the still passive patient, and felt fear creep up her spine once more.

"You better not act like a bastard when the morphine wears off." she said, but she highly doubted the patient heard her, or would have even cared if he had.

Unfortunately though, Dr. Peters could not have predicted the future better. Quite frankly Clara did not want to be even in the same building when the patient finally began to come around. No, scratch that, she didn't want to be on the same continent anymore. At first he just growled and grumbled, looking up at the ceiling, twisting every so often, testing the strength of the restraints no doubt, planning to escape and go on a rampage.

Eventually though he began to grow impatient and started pulling at the chains so violently that Clara was surprised they didn't break, even though they were thick chains like they would use to moor boats rather than use on most patients. She would have told him to calm down and stop if he had been any other patient, but saying such a thing to this monster was impossible in her mind, it was suicide. So she kept quiet and tried to ignore the crazed patient trying to escape.

She had found an old book someone had left lying around, it was about the history of some nearby town she had never heard of, it wasn't ideal reading material but anything would do to keep her mind off what was going on. An hour had gone by. The patient seemed to have either finally given up or simply tired himself out, Clara didn't really care, as long as he wasn't making any noise or causing an trouble; it almost let her forget he was there. But it was hard, he was breathing heavily now and doing this weird sniffing thing, Clara wasn't sure what he was trying to do, maybe he had a cold or something, she looked over just in case and nearly jumped out of her chair when she noticed he was looking directly at her.

"You're that doc from the sewers, aren't you?" it wasn't even a question, it was an acknowledgement. Clara felt herself pale, quickly she turned away and tried to continue reading. Thankfully though, he fell silent once more when he didn't receive an answer, but went back to noisily tugging at the chains again. Shortly afterwards, Clara got to her feet and left the room.


End file.
